


Tricks

by astrangerfate, orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Spanking, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-05
Updated: 2008-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerfate/pseuds/astrangerfate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We’re leaving, Sam,” he orders angrily. Sam shoots the bartender an apologetic smile and shrugs like he’s sorry to go, but Dean has him on a tight leash. Which doesn’t sound like a bad idea to Dean at the moment.</p><p>“My brother,” he explains, rising to his full gigantic height, and Dean can see the bartender’s thoughts change from brother, my ass to a contemplation of whether the kid’s got the equipment to match. He does, and it’s all Dean’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tricks

**Author's Note:**

> Smut, some spanking, some sexing.

The man across the counter has been watching Sam all night. Sam knows it and he smiles back, laughs when the guy cracks a joke. The bartender watches Sam, and Dean watches Sam, his brother’s head ducking as he grins, showing off perfect white teeth and dimples. He slams the double shot down, index finger and thumb pressing so tight the glass almost shatters. Of course, he loosens his grip. He wouldn’t want to have to pay for it. He’s already paid for the whiskey. Sam’s Miller Lite is on the house.

The blond is smiling, showing off one crooked tooth that is somehow adorable instead of a turn-off. Fucking twink. He claps Sam on the arm and his hand lingers. Enough is enough, and he’s crossed the line now. Dean jumps to his feet, drops a bill on the counter and wraps his own hand around the back of Sam’s neck. His fingers aren’t as gentle as the bartender’s, he knows. And Sam should have expected it.

“We’re leaving, Sam,” he orders angrily. Sam shoots the bartender an apologetic smile and shrugs like he’s sorry to go, but Dean has him on a tight leash. Which doesn’t sound like a bad idea to Dean at the moment.

“My brother,” he explains, rising to his full gigantic height, and Dean can see the bartender’s thoughts change from brother, my ass to a contemplation of whether the kid’s got the equipment to match. He does, and it’s all Dean’s.

They walk back to the cheap motel in silence, Dean’s hand not leaving the scruff of Sam’s neck. He walks fast, forcing Sam to keep up. Sam stumbles a couple of times over his long legs, and one of his shoes comes untied but they don’t stop to fix it. Dean fumbles for the old-fashioned brass key in his pocket with his left hand, unwilling to let Sam off the hook for an instant. When he finally opens the door he pushes Sam inside first, then turns on the lights. Locks the door behind him.

Sam is rubbing at his neck with an injured expression, but he knows better than to say anything. Dean grabs one straying wrist, then the other. He pins them behind Sam’s back, pressing his brother up against the wall. Sam puts on a show of resistance, twisting feebly, but he doesn’t stand a chance against the iron vise, and he’d rather have Dean’s fingers than handcuffs leaving marks.

“He was cruising you,” Dean says, breathing heavily. He’s still pissed off, and it shows.

Sam turns his head, trying to see Dean over his shoulder, but he’s stiff against the wall—in more ways than one—and Dean’s pushing his own hands into the small of his back, preventing any excess movement.

“You liked it, too, didn’t you?” Dean asks in a low voice. “You were cruising him right back. Smiling and blushing and practically wiggling out of your seat. Acting like a little trick. Is that what you wanted him to think? That you were just up for grabs. Huh? Some pretty little boy to play with for a night? Is that what you wanted?”

Sam whimpers a little as Dean digs his fingernails into Sam’s wrists.

“Answer me, bitch!” Dean shouts.

“N-no,” Sam insists. “No, Dean, I wasn’t cruising him, I didn’t—”

“Liar.” Dean releases Sam’s hands then, but keeps his own hands against Sam’s back. At the waistband of his jeans. Lurking just over his ass. “You loved the attention, you little slut.”

“No!” Sam says, his face growing hot. “Not from him, Dean.”

“What, from me?” Dean straightens abruptly, spins Sam around. Sam flinches as Dean stares him down. “Were you trying to make me jealous, Sammy?”

Sam shrugs a little, toes the ground. Dean’s fingers are digging into his shoulders now, and tomorrow he’s going to be sporting tiny purple marks. His shoulders, his neck, his wrists. Where else? He licks his lips nervously.

“Well, it didn’t look like you were going to fuck me,” he whines, somehow looking up into Dean’s eyes despite the height difference.

“That doesn’t matter,” Dean snarls. “It’s not your call. And you don’t go around cruising some stupid fucking kid, Sam. How old was he, anyway? Sixteen?"

“Twenty-two,” Sam corrects.

“Yeah, well, whatever. You don’t do that, you hear me?” His voice is shaking a little, even though he knows why Sam did it, the whole thing was some stupid set-up. It worked. “Because you’re mine. Now get your fucking pants down.” He shoves Sam back into the wall, watches in satisfaction as Sam’s hands drop immediately, and he kicks the pants across the room. The boxers follow a second later, and a smirk crosses Dean’s face.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have done that Sammy,” he says, pleased.

Sam’s smile falters, but his dick is scraping his stomach. Dean shakes his head.

“See, teasing me like that? That was a bad thing to do, Sammy. And I think you’re gonna have to be punished for that. I was going to let you keep your panties on for that part, but it’s too late now.” He sits down on Sam’s bed. “Get your ass over my lap, Sammy. I’m going to spank you.”

The smile disappears completely. “Dean?”

“You heard me, Sam. You get your ass over here or I’ll slap a cock ring on you before I fuck you. How would you like that?”

The threat holds. Sam practically leaps across Dean’s knees, squirming eagerly into position, trying to rub his erection against the thick denim jeans.

“That’s my good boy,” Dean says, feeling his own cock wake up to join the party. “Are you ready for your spanking?”

Sam nods his head, then says in a small voice, “Not too hard, okay, Dean?”

Dean feels his blood heat up at that. Sam, bare-assed over his knees, begging him…and damn if that isn’t a kink he didn’t even know he had.

“That’s not your call, either, Sam,” he says firmly. And with that he starts slapping Sam’s ass, hard. Sam groans a little and grinds against Dean’s legs.

“Settle down there, Sammy,” Dean warns, slapping a little harder. Sam’s ass is turning pink and he marvels at it. He did this, he thinks. He’s doing this to Sam and the thought is enough to push him over the edge. Time to drive the lesson home and get down to business.

“If I ever catch you flirting with some fucking idiot again, you’re getting the ass-beating of your life, do you understand?”

“Yes,” Sam gasps.

“That’s yes, sir, to you,” Dean says firmly. He slaps his brother’s ass again, twice, before pulling Sam up to sit beside him. Sam fidgets a little as his skin makes contact with the hotel coverlet, and it doesn’t take Dean any time to shove his jeans to his feet, not bothering to take off his shoes. The lube is in the drawer, between their beds. He stretches over to retrieve it, squirts some into his right palm. It feels cool on the hot skin, and he has an idea.

“Flip over onto your stomach again, Sammy,” he says.

Sam’s eyes widen. “Dean, you’re not gonna—” he begins, uncertain. “I mean, please, Dean—sir—”

“I told you to roll over. Now do it,” Dean commands. No harm in letting the kid worry for a minute.

Sam is fretting, blinking rapidly and biting his lip, but he does as he’s told. Dean can’t resist laying one smack on the upturned bottom before he takes the lube and lets almost half of it drizzle onto Sam’s pink ass. The Vaseline is cold, and Sam writhes frantically as it covers the hot skin.

“Does that feel good, Sammy?” Dean asks huskily. He tosses the lube aside, cups Sam’s ass in both hands and begins to rub. Sam moans low in his throat.

“Deeean,” he pleads, arching his back and pushing up into his brother’s hands. “Dean, please, Dean, please…”

“Please what, Sammy?” Dean asks, running a finger along the crease of Sam’s buttocks and thighs before moving it to tease the corners of his asshole. He’s rewarded with a frantic kick.

“Dean!” The desperation in Sam’s voice is clear.

“Okay, okay. Don’t get your panties in a wad,” Dean says, slipping the other slick hand under Sam’s sharp hips to find the base of his brother’s cock. “Then again, you’re not wearing any panties, are you, Sammy?”

“Dean!” Sam blurts out. “Just…Dean, now, please…”

Keeping a tight hold on Sam’s dick, Dean probes the asshole with his wet fingers, inserting several and wiggling them around. That shuts Sam up.

“You wanted me to pay you some attention, Sammy, all you had to do was ask,” Dean breathes, removing his fingers and pushing his hard-on into the tight hole. He goes slowly, enjoying Sam’s little gasps and mews.

“Yeah, but, what fun would that be?” Sam asks breathlessly. Dean squeezes his dick and pushes the rest of the way into Sam, hard.

“You little bitch,” he growls.

“Yours,” Sam whispers back, and then they’re thrusting as one. Dean jerks Sam off and brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting Sam as he comes with enough force to shake the bed. They breathe heavily, Dean’s cock still buried deep in Sam’s ass, and then Dean nips Sam’s shoulder.

“Damn right you’re mine,” he agrees. They wouldn’t want it any other way.


End file.
